Hobbled

For a couple years Ethan has been complaining, usually at the end of a soccer season, that the bottom of his heels hurt. At first we thought it might be a mild injury, and later maybe just his shoes. It subsided for a while and then returned.

Since his soccer time has increased this past year, the pain came back and didn't leave. We tried new shoes, new inserts and enforcing rest periods. It would seem to get better, I would forget about it and then glance out at the soccer field and see him limping like an old man.

Finally, a week or two ago, after a visit to a specialist, he was diagnosed with Sever's Disease. Not a huge deal and not terribly uncommon in young athletes.



Now it's just a matter of icing, stretching, good support shoes and possibly limiting some of the time he's on his feet. The first three we can do. Limiting soccer? Not so sure.

Friday Foto (Ethan's latest obsession)

I get knocked down

I'm regularly impressed by the life lessons soccer teaches. Ugh. That sentence. Sounds like something an overindulgent, overextended soccer mom might trumpet.

Although organized team sports weren't a part of my own childhood, I've heard all those "life lessons" cliches for years and knew there was some truth to them. Just how much truth is something I'm discovering through my own sons.

Yes, there are the usual ones: patience, determination, focus, discipline. All of which can be learned outside of sport. Still, there is something about learning to accept and recover from mistakes, defeat and embarrassment in a very public way, that is powerful.

It may seem cruel to thrust a child with a sensitive, emotional nature into this arena. A child like Ethan. But that's the beauty of it. Ethan wants to participate. The thrill and enjoyment are all wrapped up in lessons he can't get away from. He keeps going back for more.

Yesterday, during an intense tournament game, Ethan made an awful blunder. As his opponent took a shot on goal, Ethan attempted to jump up and head the ball away. Instead, the ball bounced backward into his own goal.

Oh, the groaning. And that was just me.

I knew Ethan would not react well and sure enough, he shuffled off the field, in tears. His coach, not unkindly, shouted words I was mumbling under my own breath, "Get over it, get over it!" and forced him to continue. And, just like that, he did.

The game was a 3-1 loss. Ethan was predictably a black cloud on the way to the car. And yet, by the time we reached home, he was mostly recovered, already full of enthusiasm for the next game. Measurably different from past years.

Even a joyful life is tempered by mistakes, adversity and things we just plain don't like. I want my children to respond with grace and resilience rather than wallow in the sidelines of shame and self-pity. Something I'm still trying to learn myself.

Doing the next thing

Hard to believe this month is almost over. A week of "firsts" is around the corner. Ethan starts fourth grade, Drew kindergarten and Adam heads to preschool. Soccer practices, already in full swing for Ethan, will become more of a challenge with Drew soon in the mix.

August has been busy- Ethan's birthday party (pictures here), soccer and our trip East (more pictures), filling up our days.

I keep waiting for life to slow down a little bit, to catch my breath, to feel caught up. Not gonna happen. Once school starts, life generally tends to get even busier.

Deep breaths. September, here we come!

Guest post: Ethan blogs the Au Sable river

The canoe trip was one of the activities we participated in while in Grayling. Drew, Daddy and I went on the canoe trip. It was 3 hours. Drew was sitting in the middle. He did not paddle.

The weather was perfect. When we were about 10 minutes through the course there was an overhanging branch from a birch tree. We all saw it. We started paddling away from the branch but the stream was carrying us towards the branch. Finally it came to the top of the canoe. It skimmed the end of it.



I tried to duck but it was too low. It happened all so suddenly I do not remember exactly what happened but the next thing I know I was lying in the middle of the boat with my head hurting.

After 3 hours of paddling we got to the finishing station. I had a great time.

One (or two, or three) ingredient ice-cream

One ingredient ice-cream. It couldn't possibly be any good. I figured it had to be one of those nasty, health tricks like substituting carob for chocolate or applesauce for oil. Especially when the one ingredient is bananas.

But I bookmarked it anyway. We always seem to have one or two random bananas hanging around and, at the very least, it could be a good way to use them up.

This morning I gave Ethan the task of reading the recipe and performing the first few steps while I was busy with something else. You'd think I asked him to decipher hieroglyphics. This child needs more time in the kitchen.

If you ever need a few (hundred) yawns, get your eight-year-old to cut two bananas into small rounds. Like watching the grass grow. S O S L O W.



Ethan was under the mistaken impression that we were supposed to then cook the bananas. Good thing I'd read the directions ahead of time. We stuck them in the freezer instead.

Late afternoon we took them out, popped them in my ancient food processor and chopped, as directed. Behold, creamy bananas! Delicious all by themselves.

Ethan insisted we add peanut butter as the link suggests and if he'd had his way we would have thrown in any other sugary substance we had lying around. I let him add some caramel sauce, we returned it to the freezer to harden up a little and after dinner it was done.



Quite good, really. Not ice cream but not carob either.

Soccer envy

I've been walking around with this quote in my head recently, "Comparison is the thief of joy".

I have almost always lived in communities where the general population is more affluent than I am. I'm kind of used to it. But it's something else to see it through the eyes of your own children. To demand contentment as I struggle with it myself.

We've been tying ourselves in knots this soccer season, wondering what to do for Ethan in the future. He has played this past year in a "developmental league", part of a popular soccer club he's been with for years.

Coaches have been telling us he is ready for the next level, a travel team. Of course, these coaches work for the club and are also salesmen. They offer dreams of soccer happiness and prestige. They make it sound necessary. I let myself buy into it.

Unfortunately, it's a pricey dream. I don't like to talk (whine) about finances on my blog. But it's a part of life and unavoidable sometimes. The best travel teams charge at least $1300 per year around these parts.

Yes, we are talking about a child playing a sport. Just a game. Which Ethan loves. Which Ethan is good at and passionate about. It's something we would like to give him.

I looked around for alternatives and thanks to a good recommendation, thought I'd found one. A team with the added benefit of including many of Ethan's school friends. I took Ethan to a couple practices to check it out. Unfortunately, our hopes were dashed when the projected price for next season was presented.

I must admit,initially, I thought we could do it and was ready to push for it. Then I slept on it and found some sense. Yes, it would be possible but not at all responsible. We have three other children. This is soccer we are talking about.

I got some perspective. Realized that this was probably more about my own ego, wanting to be part of the best, wanting Ethan to be among the best, than anything else. I was feeling the need to give my children what all the children around them seem to have.

We're not talking about feeding or clothing or educating my child. We are talking about kicking a ball.

And I had a good ol' ugly cry but now I'm done. I think.

We can still put Ethan back in the same league for one more year and worry about what to do later. It's a good league, with good coaches and honestly, when I get my head on straight, I realize it's more than enough.

Now, to tell Ethan.

One down, one to go.

Phew! With Ethan's room (mostly) done, I feel like I can relax a little before diving into the next project (Sadie's room). The pace of life has been frantic around here lately.

Ethan's room (previously Keith's office) needed a lot of prep work before we even began to think about paint. It took weeks to clean out and organize the contents of the room. Some of which is still sitting around, cluttering up our bedroom. Such is the pace of progress with a new baby, I suppose.















Keith then worked on the walls which required hours of sanding and patching before I was able to paint them. After a couple coats of paint, we faced the daunting task of getting the world map mural onto the wall.

As I mentioned, I was inspired by a picture I saw on flickr. I loved the way the mural pulled the room together in a unique way and knew Ethan, with his interest in geography, would love it as well. I looked around online until I found a good deal on something very similar. The mural came in eight different panels, its original size was 13' by 8'.8" and it expanded even further after application.






















Suffice it to say that the application of this beast was a true test of a marriage. Ours just barely passed but here we are. And it was worth it. Truly, Keith took on much of the project himself, doing most of the cutting and pasting, his perfectionist tendencies keeping him company.

I've been wanting to try a project I saw some time ago. I found an image online that I knew Ethan would love, printed it out, enlarged and made it into a stencil which I used to trace onto some fabric. I cut it out and simply applied to the wall with liquid starch. So easy! Now I'm thinking it should have been a little bigger.






















There are a few unfinished details (closet doors,a dresser) and I would love to find different bedding at some point but it's already functioning quite well as Ethan's new bedroom. He's very happy with his own space.

Coming soon...

Transformation! With primary inspiration coming from this photo.
Stay tuned.

Birthday like Beckham

When Ethan requested a soccer-themed birthday party I wasn't terribly excited about the idea. I figured it would be pretty boring for kids to come over and play soccer-such an ordinary event around here. But I underestimated the simple love of the game Ethan and so many of his friends have.

I had planned a few variations on the game but we didn't get to all of them because the boys were so eager just to play plain ol' soccer.

As far as party ideas, I didn't have to look far online to find inspiration. I used the invitations and envelopes from this site which has a ton of great printables and free downloads.

We had a such a good group of boys. Eight years old, becoming more aware of themselves and others but still excited by the sight of cicadas in the grass and eager to watch a friend open presents.

Happy birthday to my favorite eight-year-old!






















More pictures here.

If you can't take the heat...

You know your oven needs cleaning when the kitchen is so smoky your son tries to fashion a gas mask in order to eat his dinner. Another clue is when flames start shooting up from the surface of the oven.

First day

On a Mission

...to track down school supplies for Ethan and the rest of his class. And to figure out what the rest of my tax money is used for.

He's Seven!

Happy birthday to my explorer.






















A chubby little toddler who drew me out of a dark place simply by needing his mother.

He's curious, sensitive, brave yet cautious, an introvert who loves his friends, a voracious reader with a love for almost any sport.

Slowly he is growing into himself and moving away from me. That's how it's supposed to be. Our lives are so much richer with his spirit.

Overcoming photo phobia

Today I brought my camera with me to Ethan's swim lesson. I knew I would have to get outside my photography-in-public comfort zone. The pool is at a nearby high school, in a large, heated room with bleachers on one end. A group of thirty or forty parents sit and watch (or not) as simultaneous lessons are run all over the pool.

With the poor lighting and Ethan's group located on the far side of the pool, I knew I would have to walk down poolside to get a half decent shot. I sat in the back of the bleachers and thought about how brave Ethan was to overcome his natural shyness and join a group of strangers to learn something new. Well, if a six year old can face his fears, surely I can walk around in front of an audience and look like a giant tool with a silly camera.






















So I did. Some people looked at me but amazingly, I was ok. Ok enough to take weird shots of random pool-y things. Like this:















And this:





















The diving board shots were tricky and I was not excited about standing where I needed to but it was too good an opportunity to miss. Most of these were blurry; I was trying to do it manually. But I love the way this one came out with the less blurry part being largely centered on Ethan.






















I'm not sure what I was so afraid of.

Oh dear.

My boy is just like me.

Classic fun

Driving downtown a few days ago, I decided on a whim to stop in at a toy store a friend had told me about. With all the kids along, I knew it was probably a mistake but we had the pre-expensive store talk before we got out. No touching anything and do NOT expect to buy anything. We are just looking.

It was a really neat place and fun to explore. The kids, with the exception of Adam who does not do well in any context, managed to behave themselves. I let them pick out something small and they finally decided on marbles. None for poor Adam.















Back at home we tried our hands at the classic game. In a moment of inspiration, I explained to Ethan that marbles were the Pokemon cards of our grandparents. They brought them to school, played with them on the playground, traded and collected them. I vaguely remember my own grandfather telling marble stories of his youth.















Next project: Making a drawstring pouch to keep the marbles out of Adam's chubby little paws.

The birthday grinch

At breakfast this morning, Keith announced in his infamous black and white style that, according to something he just read, there will be no summer this year. Something about the gulf stream, blah, blah, words and stuff. I, in my own loving and respectful way began to pshaw in disbelief. Back and forth. Repeat.

I glanced over at Ethan, his face scrunched up and eyes filling with tears. "Oh, Ethan, what?" with all the sympathy I could muster.

His voice wavered, "That means I'm not having a birthday this year."

Keith, who has whispered the truth about Santa Claus to each of his innocent babes since birth, has now managed to also steal summer.

That time of year

Second grade. Windows cracked open, the cut-grass smell noisy in our heads. It's a fun project day and our moods match the end-of-year weather. The ultimate in instant-gratification gardening: the ubiquitous Project Bean Sprout. Styrofoam cups are labeled, the large seeds buried and watered, dirt spread on our desks. The cups lined up in trays on window sills.















I remember that did-it-myself satisfaction, presenting this gift to my mother. Now, on the receiving end, every year since Ethan started preschool, I feel a double pleasure holding my hands out for this sturdy little sprout. The pride of his accomplishment and the memory of my own.

Quiz:

When your son complains day after day about a boy who "will not let him use the tire swing" at recess, the tire swing being all his heart desires:

A. Tell him to ask nicely and wait his turn.

B. When the Tire Swing King still does not permit access, tell him to just ignore him and find something else to do.

C. Entertain fantasies of storming the playground yourself with some harsh words for the TSK.

D. Finally, in frustration, tell your son he must "stand up for himself" and take his place upon the coveted rubber throne in a firm, deliberate manner.

E. All of the above, with no success.